


iron

by silhouette (thiefless)



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 5+1 Things, Adult Peter Parker, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Developing Relationship, First Time, Iron Man 1, M/M, Playboy!Tony, Rimming, Tony Stark Does What He Wants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:20:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22916875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thiefless/pseuds/silhouette
Summary: Tony takes the spider-kid's virginity in a bathroom stall at S.I.'s annual charity gala.OR: five times Tony fucked Peter, and the one time they had breakfast instead.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 29
Kudos: 342





	iron

**Author's Note:**

> This really didn't go how I wanted it to. I'm sorry.

I.

Tony takes the spider-kid's virginity in a bathroom stall at S.I.'s annual charity gala.

Peter's been flirting with him all evening. Sweet little touches and fumbling exchanges that Tony had reluctantly categorised as inexplicably charming, despite the kid's apparent inexperience. It's a problem, sure – but a problem for another time.

Herculean strength pulls him from the warmth of Peter's skin, a last-ditch attempt at human decency forces him to preface, saying: “Your, uh, internship at Stark Industries is not reticent on whatever we do or don't do here. You still have that NDA I signed, right?” The one prohibiting Tony from spilling the literal spider-beans on the kid. “Don't do anything you don't wanna do. I mean it, kid.”

Peter's reply is non-verbal. He shuts Tony up with the press of his lips.

“ _Please_ , Mr. Stark,” Peter whimpers, so sinfully wrecked already – and Tony has heard several iterations of his name over the years, but none have ever sounded as ravishing as the one gasping from Peter’s mouth.

Tony feels like a god, having this literal superhuman trembling, arching into him, Tony's name falling like an answered prayer from his lips.

Hardly a surprise then, when Tony falls with the kid, pleasure near capsizing his knees, buckling under their shared weight.

When all is said and done, Tony buckles up his belt, and leaves Peter in the bathroom with little more than a peck on the cheek and a nondescript, “good work, kid,” – Peter gasping for air and self-consciously checking his appearance in the mirror – because Tony Stark is a dick, ladies and gentlemen, and it's just better for all parties involved that they understand that sooner rather than later.

* * *

II.

The second time, Tony is chivalrous. He gives Pete the tour of his Malibu mansion first. Even throws in a few Underoos-themed upgrades for good measure. Not for any ulterior motive – Tony may be the most notorious sleaze this side of the equator, but he sure as hell isn’t that kind of perverted – but just to ensure the kid is safe during his nightly patrols.

(Hey. If his dear old dad could assist a guy from Brooklyn back during the Dark Ages, then Tony sure as hell can help this kid from Queens. After all – anything Howard could do, Tony can do better. 

Also: because Tony really, really wants to, and he's never outgrown that self-indulgent streak of his.)

 _“Welcome, Peter,”_ J.A.R.V.I.S. announces upon arrival.

Peter whirls around. “Big Brother is watching me,” he whispers, horrified and intrigued all at once, a concoction that absolutely does not have Tony's lips twitching. 

_“Big Brother has done a facial recognition scan and has identified Peter Parker as Mr. Stark’s latest guest,”_ his trusty A.I. replies, dry and world-weary, sounding like every S.I. employee. 

“Big Brother is watching us all,” Tony inputs sagely, watching as Peter’s shock morphs into a mischievousness that sets Tony’s pulse racing.

“Okay, then,” says Peter, and then immediately starts stripping in the middle of Tony’s lab. “Can Big Brother see me do this?”

J.A.R.V.I.S. sighs over the intercom. Tony is a little too preoccupied to muster the energy to care about his unofficial intern flashing his A.I.

Peter dons an expression of pure innocence. “Is Big Brother still watching, Mr. Stark?”

Tony swallows on a dry throat. “J.A.R.V.I.S.,” he begins, voice a mere rasp of its former glory. 

_“Understood, sir.”_

The security camera stops glowing, and then Tony’s attention is all Peter’s for however long the kid wants.

* * *

III.

This is inevitable really. The amount of times Tony has leered at that ass in a suit Tony created from scratch have all been leading up to this moment. 

The kid wore Tony's suit the same way Tony blanketed himself in his arrogance and haughty playboy countenance. Like armour. The parallel doesn't escape his notice.

“Lemme tell you, kid, my suit does wonders for your ass. I kind of... own it.”

Peter laughs, ducks his head. Still so unused to holding Tony's attention. For that matter, Tony's half-surprised too; he's never been so entranced by someone before. “So, what're you saying? That my ass belongs to Stark Industries now?”

Tony smirks. “Well, that’s certainly one way to look at it.” He beckons the kid over, gestures for him to remove the suit. “Get over here, sweetheart.” _Sweetheart_? Tony really has gone soft for Peter Parker.

Peter, high off a recent Spider-Man street brawl, is incredibly receptive to Tony's proposition – Tony is just willing to taste that second-hand high straight from the source.

He does. He eats Pete out, gets him to take his pleasure from Tony’s face, mouth, teeth and tongue.

Peter is so hauntingly beautiful, squirming above him. He’s better than any drug; better than any scotch. He’s... the best thing Tony’s ever tasted, ever held, and maybe that’s a sign that Tony has no business getting close to this kid, touching this kid and having the privilege of hearing him moan, but Tony’s far too greedy to let him go. He _needs_ Pete. His body needs him like oxygen – his mind craves him like an engineering solution.

By the time Peter comes for the third time, Tony begins to comprehend just how deep this addiction runs.

* * *

IV.

Tony has a weapons presentation he’s already late for, but he orders Happy to take a ‘quick detour’ and pick up Peter Parker. What can he say? Tony needs his daily spider-fix.

“Can you drive stick?” Peter asks.

Now, Tony is a man who thrives on a good challenge, indulges in his competitive streak as often as God intended, and a pretty young thing to preen off to.

Tony grins. “Happy, wanna race?”

When they finally get to the plane, Rhodey is beyond pissed, but Peter is still smiling so it balances perfectly. It’s all good, anyway. Tony has a bunch of strippers that’ll hopefully turn Platypus’ frown upside down.

And Tony has Peter. That’s all he needs.

“Mr. Stark,” the kid practically purrs once alone, low. Goosebumps rise on Tony’s flesh at the sound. “You wanna go steady with me?”

Tony thought he'd never ask.

They go more than steady. Several times.

Peter wears Tony’s leather jacket as Tony dresses smart, dark eyes absorbing the reverse strip tease. Tony’d give anything to know what he’s thinking.

He smacks a filthy kiss on Peter's swollen lips before he’s due to leave. “Wait up for me.”

Peter sears up into the kiss, force nearly blowing Tony back. His teeth tug at Tony's lower lip as they separate on Peter's terms. 

“I'll hold you to it,” says Peter, and Tony is uncomfortably aware of how hard his heart is pounding in the cage of his ribs, even after he has touched down on the ground. Leaving Peter behind.

* * *

V.

Tony gets captured, tortured, escapes like a badass. Afghan soot and dust and grime clinging to his hair, the sun beating down on him from on high. The lion's roar of the helicopter signalling Tony's freedom. 

“Your friendly neighbourhood spider-friend is here,” Rhodey says, a silent _I'm gonna talk about this with you later, but right now you get a free pass on account of being kidnapped and tortured for the better part of three months._

Tony's brain shuts down when the vision of Peter – _Peter_ – swims into his eye-line.

“Mr. Stark!”

“Peter,” Tony mouths, throat dry and parched, collapsing into Peter's open arms, his warm embrace. Forehead tilting forward to press into Peter's, breath syncing and hearts pounding.

They get in the helicopter, Tony blacking out to the feel of Peter carding his fingers through Tony’s grease-stained hair. He awakens a little while after the transition to the plane flying back to America, Peter’s gorgeous features the first thing he sees.

_So. You're a man who has everything and nothing._

And– 

_Don't waste it. Don't waste your life._

“You know,” Tony starts, stutters, stops. Trembling hands he knows do not escape Peter's sharp eyes, his genius brain. 

Language fails him. Tony wants to find the words to illustrate all that has happened in the past few months: the crude armour he invented, about the electromagnet and the arc reactor powering his heart, the desire to do something _more_. How Peter's smile flickered behind his eyelids every time he blinked, rubbed his eyes, lay down to rest; how Tony's memory perfectly recalled how beautiful the kid looks at the pinnacle of pleasure; how Tony fought his way out just to hear Peter's laugh one more time.

How Tony dreamt of Peter. Because it's always Peter.

But Tony is made of iron, and has an iron defence system hand-crafted by Howard Stark himself. Heartfelt declarations aren't exactly part of Tony's repertoire; they challenged every structure, every crack, of his emotional armour. 

Instead, Tony says: “I thought about you, kid.” Thumb traces the mould of Peter’s lower lip, and Tony can feel Peter’s muscles stretch into a smile beneath the rough callouses. “Thought about how pretty your little mouth is, and how good you look on your knees for me.”

The kid catches Tony’s eye, translating the subtext into the language Tony wishes he could speak, cracks upon a blinding smile that eclipses Tony’s whole world.

Dutifully, Peter gets on his knees.

* * *

\+ I.

The day after Tony shuts down the weapons division of Stark Industries, the day after Tony takes Peter apart with only the arc reactor as witness, Tony catches Peter trying to make Tony breakfast in bed, except J.A.R.V.I.S. keeps setting off the fire alarm, much to Peter's demise.

Tony leans against the door and watches Peter saunter around in the kitchen wearing Tony's shirt from last night, smiling softly at the vision. 

Peter jumps at the feel of Tony's hands sliding under his shirt, turning a pretty shade of pink, and then informs Tony of his aunt's appalling culinary skills. 

Tony winks. “Watch and learn, kid.”

Like the certifiable genius he is, Tony whips up an impressive omelette in little under three hours. 

It's... an abstract art form. Some gallery would pay millions to flog it. Tony'd have to sic Pepper on that. 

So. As it happens, cooking isn't either of their superpower, and J.A.R.V.I.S. uses his power of attorney to order a McDonalds breakfast to ensure they don't get food poisoning. 

Domesticity has never been Tony's style – he actively recoils at the mere mention of mundanity. Breakfast with Peter Parker, though, is unlike anything Tony's ever experienced. He wouldn't trade it for the world.

Tony hums, discarded food wrappers littering the table. “Listen, kid. I was thinking, maybe you could show me the ropes on being a superhero. Teach me how to 'use my powers for good' and all that jazz.” He waves a hand. “We'd be... official. Partners-in-crime.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. What's your motto? With great power–”

“–comes great responsibility,” Peter chimes in; a whisper. 

Tony clicks his fingers. “Exactly.”

Joy suits Peter very well. Peter wears everything well. But it's his eyes that leave Tony _wanting_.

Brown. Rather an unimaginative shade; Tony's own irises are painted brown, and he would be the last to flaunt them as testament to his beauty. Peter's palette isn't like Afghanistan. The cave Tony had been imprisoned and tortured in had been brown – a dark, merciless brown verging on inky black, flickering like the light of the candle; one hitched whimper would be enough to swallow them whole. 

Peter is like the earth: dirt and mud and soil. The vitality of new life – re-energising and re-vitalising and re-invigorating. 

There's a whole world in Peter's eyes – scratch that: a whole new universe. And Tony for one can’t wait to build a spaceship and colonise every star, every planet. 

Tony is little more than damaged goods, always has been, Afghanistan had only cemented that fact with a literal stamp in the centre of his chest – Tony Stark, the latest circus freak – but Peter... Peter is a manifestation of magnificence. 

“Listen. I.” Tony falters. Jesus, look at him. He's stumbling. Tony Stark does not falter. Deep breaths. “I was wondering if you wanted to hang out,” – yes, he does audibly cringe as he says it – “with me some time.”

Peter scrunches his brow. It's so adorable Tony forgets to breath for a second there. “Didn't you just ask me that? You want me to help you be a superhero, right?”

“Well, yes, but.” Okay, really, this should not be that hard to spit out. Three months ago, he was the world's most pretentious playboy – and now he's been reduced to _this_. “I was thinking more like I take you out somewhere fancy, maybe candles, or just go for walks.” The kid has to get the picture, right? 

Luckily, Peter does. Kind of. “Are you asking me out to dinner? Like, a date? Like, exclusively?” he asks, shy smile adorning his lips. 

Tony licks his own lips in a bid to stave off the awkwardness. Truth be told, he's never really done this before; never had anybody he cared about enough to want to do this. “If I am, would you be opposed?”

Peter grins, wide, and says: “No.”

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you guys thought. :)


End file.
